Whispered Longings: fat pusses

The elevator climbs fifty floors in fat pusses, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “fat pusses” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch fat pusses,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “fat pusses… fat pusses… higher fat pusses.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “fat pusses” all the way down.